His Girl

Downtown

"I know you dig this classic," he said, opening the door to his worn out Chevy truck.

"Aren't classics supposed to be refurbished?"

"Nah, I like it authentic. This is original paint," he patted the door as he closed me in.

The sun beat down on us as we traveled along the freeway. We exited on Fourth Street, there was no mistaking Downtown Los Angeles. Tents lined the sidewalks under the bridge. I tried not to inhale. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.

He held a folded up $5 out the window. A woman ran across two lanes of traffic to grab it. "Glove box," he said. He wanted me to open it. When I did, it was full of travel sized toiletries. "Clean up," he said to the woman, handing her a toothbrush kit and some scented spray.

"God bless you, baby." Her lips sunk into deteriorating gums. She darted off quickly.

"Far from Walnut Creek," he said.

"Yeah. Wait, how do you know where I'm from?"

"Sticker on your binder."

"Oh," I sighed. "I, uh, yeah."

"Relax. Shy, uptight Chanel."

We turned into a parking garage. He stuck my backpack behind the seat, out of sight. I held my breath when he grabbed my hand. We walked quickly to the park. My neck strained back as I looked up at the buildings. Business people pushed passed us, homeless people catcalled. None of it phased him.

The entrance to the park was guarded by security. We lined up.

"Ditch your gun," he whispered in my ear. I shook my head and laughed.

We walked down a paved path, to the grass in front of the stage. It was open, no seats, no rows. Just people, everywhere. He acknowledged several acquaintances, I sat quietly. He leaned back on his elbows.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"About what?"

"Everything," he smirked.

"Perfect." I trembled as I spoke, stuck in my own head. Could he tell how much I liked him? That I was in another world around him. Did it show?

Stage hands scurried around making final adjustments. As the first band took its place, I felt a hand on my lower back. The crowd began to push in, I was securely in front of him, his hands on my hips. He pulled me closer, my back against his chest, his mouth next to my ear.

"Shy Chanel," he whispered. I smiled and squirmed. He guided my hands up and around his neck, his arms encircled my waist. Nothing else in the world existed. No fear, no pain, no past and no tomorrow. Just us in that moment.

Each time a new band started, the crowd moved forward and he held me tighter. Shielding me from the flailing elbows and shoving around us.

He kept his arm around me on the way out. I was alive, like I'd never been.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Starved."

We walked to a Ramen Noodle restaurant on First Street.

"You haven't had anything like this in Walnut Creek, do not go over three on the spice scale. I'm warning you."

"Oh, really?"

"Seriously, Chanel."

"Okay. I'm trusting you."

He put his arms around me, pulling me close. "I don't want to see you hurt." I leaned my head on his shoulder. I knew he wasn't talking about food anymore.

We finally decided to leave. The skyline dimmed in the background as we drove away.

We parked down the street from my apartments. He turned and looked at me.

"Why'd you move here?"

"My mom got a new job with more opportunities. They're paying her schooling." My throat tightened. I didn't want to talk about it.

"Dad not around?"

"Not anymore."

"Bailed?" When I didn't answer, he kept guessing. "Locked up?"

"Died," I finally managed.

"Sorry."

I cleared my throat and wiped my eyes. I was back at the funeral. People everywhere uttering canned condolences with no meaning. Anger began to well inside.

"My dad's not around either. Stepdad sucks."

"I should go," I said. I did not want him to see me cry.

"Not yet." He leaned over me, unfastened my seatbelt and held my face. I leaned away nervously, my head pressed against the window. "Have you ever?" He kept coming forward.

I liked a boy in my old junior high. We held hands at camp and I think we tried to kiss once, I wasn't sure. Our teeth sort of banged together and we heard the counselors coming so we ran. Then dad got sick, and my life stopped until...until, right now.

I shook my head to answer him. His tongue gently touched my lips, I stopped resisting. Everything was hazy, I didn't know which way was up and which was down. I couldn't believe we were kissing, and it was extraordinary.

I felt fingers traveling up my bare stomach, tracing the cups of my bra.

"Breaker, no!" I shoved his hand away. I wasn't ready. His face twisted in surprise, in anger.

"You're right, you should go."

I let myself out, the night air was cool. He tossed my backpack before pulling the door closed. I stood still as he drove away, intense aching all over. My arms folded around me, I walked the few hundred feet to my apartment.

I fell on my bed in tears. Fishing my journal from a box, I read through my old writings. Dad was gone and me and mom, where were we? Nowhere. Soon, I was in the fetal position straining to breathe. I had to pull myself together, she'd be home soon.

"How was your day?" Mom called as she walked in. I could hear her setting her things down. "Mine was outstanding."

I rolled over, my back to the door.

"Chanel bell," she was coming my way. "You didn't eat the dinner I left you."

"Not hungry."

"Well, suit yourself but you're not going to starve." She was in the bathroom, the shower turned on.

I pulled the covers over myself. How would I face all those kids, those awful girls and Breaker tomorrow? I groaned quietly into my pillow.